Chapter 128: Walter and Pinkman
"Frank, help me get him into the car," Walter said as he lifted the shoulders of the man who had knocked himself out by running into a tree.
"Who is this guy, anyway? He's heavy as hell," Frank grumbled as he grabbed the man's legs.
Together, Frank and Walter tossed the unconscious man into the trunk.
"Get in the car, quick!" Walter urged, shutting the trunk lid and speaking with urgency.
"Is this your place?" Frank asked as Walter accelerated away and drove into the driveway of a house.
"No, it's a friend's place," Walter replied as he got out.
"Hey, what's going on here? Who the hell is this?!" A man emerged from the house, pointing at Frank and jumping up and down, clearly agitated.
Frank sized up the man—or rather, the boy—who seemed just over twenty, slightly built, barely over 5'7", dressed in oversized hip-hop clothes. His unshaven face gave him a scruffy look, and it was easy to tell he was a junkie.
Frank was all too familiar with this type, common in the Southside—kids who dropped out after high school and wasted their days loitering.
"Frank, this is Jesse Pinkman, a former student of mine. This is his house," Walter introduced them.
"Help me carry him downstairs," Walter said, opening the trunk.
Still confused, Frank helped carry the man from the trunk down to the basement.
"What about the other guy in the car?" Walter asked Jesse, wiping sweat from his brow.
"He's...gone," Jesse said, gesturing across his neck.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"You're absolutely sure?" Walter pressed.
"If you don't believe me, go see for yourself," Jesse replied irritably.
"I should have checked myself before he wandered off. You could get us all killed with this," Walter said anxiously.
"Calm down, both of you," Frank interjected, stepping between them as tensions rose.
"Just fill me in on what's happening. I don't know what's going on. Who's the guy in the basement?" Frank asked.
Walter and Jesse explained, though somewhat chaotically, what was going on.
Despite the confusion, Frank pieced together the situation.
After Frank refused to join Walter in his "business venture," Walter didn't give up. Instead, he found another partner: Jesse.
Jesse was a former student of Walter's, and though they knew each other, Jesse had since become a street dealer familiar with the local drug scene.
Walter had the chemistry know-how, and Jesse handled sales, forming their partnership.
Their fledgling business was off to a rocky start.
Jesse took samples to an old contact, the man now in the basement. This guy was a local big shot, a boss with connections. But Walter's product was too good.
"An innocent man with a valuable possession," the man threatened Jesse, demanding to meet the genius behind the product. Jesse brought them to Walter.
They demanded Walter cook in front of them to prove legitimacy. Walter, claiming they were illiterate, used chemistry to subdue them.
This was yesterday. Walter's operation was a secret from his family. He needed to return home and teach, so Jesse handled the aftermath.
Today, just after class, Walter met Frank and spotted the unfortunate man who had escaped, only to run into Walter and Frank by chance.
"I think I get it now. So, there are two problems, and you know both men?" Frank clarified, addressing Jesse.
"I barely know the guy in the basement. I usually worked with his cousin, Emilio," Jesse said.
"Emilio is the guy in the car. Let's check on him," Frank suggested.
"Whatever," Jesse mumbled, leading them to the backyard.
They arrived at an RV, Walter and Jesse's mobile lab, ideal for staying under law enforcement's radar.
The RV's cramped, enclosed space had been key to overpowering the two men.
Opening the door released a peculiar odor, identical to the basement's. Inside was chaos, as if an explosion had occurred. A man lay facedown on the floor, a black cloth covering him, his shoes peeking out.
Walter and Jesse hesitated to look, standing half a step behind Frank.
Frank lifted the cloth, prompting Walter and Jesse to avert their eyes instinctively.
"With guts like yours, you think you can make and sell drugs?" Frank quipped.
Drug dealing is notoriously violent, with turf wars often leading to shootouts. In places with strict laws, drug-related activities can result in death or ruin, let alone in the gun-friendly U.S.
Most dealers use drugs themselves, damaging their nerves and acting erratically. Walter and Jesse were clearly out of their depth.
"Okay, you've seen him. Let's go back," Jesse urged, eager to leave.
"We need to make sure," Frank said, nudging the body with his foot before turning it over to reveal an Asian face, likely Native American and Caucasian mixed, covered in tattoos.
Frank checked for a pulse, confirming the man was indeed dead.
"How did you take out both of them?" Frank asked, curious.
Given Walter and Jesse's timid demeanor, they likely wouldn't dare use a gun, yet they managed to incapacitate one and kill the other.
"Yesterday, when they threatened me, I offered to teach them to cook. I tricked them into the RV, then mixed red phosphorus into a pot of hot water."
"In moist conditions, heated red phosphorus produces phosphine gas, a deadly toxin. Just a whiff is lethal. I slipped out and blocked the door to keep them inside," Walter explained.
(End of Chapter)